


Fruits of Anguish

by rumpledspinster



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), ouat
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Castle, F/M, a happy enough ending, skin deep, well...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 01:21:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10547628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpledspinster/pseuds/rumpledspinster
Summary: This is a ficlet set in the Dark Castle just after the events of Skin Deep. It incorporates Rumplestiltskin's letters into the story.





	

 

She was gone.

For the briefest of moments, he was happy, but then it all came crashing in on him as if a great storm had come and ripped it from the fertile soil that Belle had created with her caring presence. How dare she! Rumplestiltskin railed as he stomped through the corridors of the Dark Castle. His heart and mind were a tempest of emotions. He oscillated from sadness and loss, to betrayal and rage. He wanted to hate her. Hate was so much easier than all the other emotions swirling within him.

 

 

He had been cold and callous as he threw her to her knees into his dungeon. He had spat and sneered the words at her when he told her that he didn’t care for her. That he had known all along that this was a trick. That he knew she could never truly love him.

 

 

She should have left. He could still see the defiant gleam in her eyes as she stood her ground and refused to leave, practically daring him to make the next move. He felt his cloak of anger slipping so he engulfed her in magic that transported her back to her father’s castle and thus ended an argument that he feared he would not win, because the dark one never loses. The dark one must never lose.

 

 

As soon as she was gone he had crumbled. He had sobbed and ached at the loss of her. But after a time, his rage returned to him and he wreaked havoc as he thundered through the castle. He needed to get the words out. He needed to expel all of these terrible emotions somehow.

 

 

He took a seat at the long table in the great hall, the very same table that Belle had sat upon and smiled at him with those alluring eyes, and took a quill in hand and began to write. His penmanship was rushed and betrayed the urgency and the emotions that fueled it.

 

         “Belle,

         I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! You smiled. Why did you smile? You said it was true love. Do you think I’m stupid? No one loves me. No one. Not even my son. So how could you? No one loves a monster! Not ever! I’m not a coward and I am a monster and I never loved you. Monsters don’t love. They don’t care. Go. See the world. Don’t imagine you will be missed.”

 

 

Rumplestiltskin once again felt the rage calm within him, leaving sadness in its wake.

 

***

It had been many weeks since he had sent her a way, and the pain had not lessoned. It was becoming harder for him to hold on to the anger and hatred that he so desperately needed in order to feel sane. He tried his best to focus on its embers and bring it back to life, but he couldn’t get it to flare like it had in the beginning. He imagined she must be off having adventures. She’s probably out skipping in the flowers and soaking up the sunshine. Perhaps she has seen fit to give her precious smiles to one of the many suitors who are sure to be after her hand. He imagined her hanging off the arm of a strapping young lad looking all starry eyed and dewy and felt betrayal at the image. He took pen in hand and wrote.

 

 

         “Dearest Belle,

         I have all the possessions for which a man may dream. My castle is spacious. I have the finest of furniture, and I possess endless spools of gold. But I have no heart. Black as it may have been, I once had it working again. No, you had it working again. It was you, and it was yours. And you took it. You took it from me. My heart. You took it and you left. You hurt me, and I hate you. I hate you! Because I love you and you made me need you. And I don’t care that I told you to go. You’re gone! You didn’t come back! You’re gone, and I will never forgive. Never forgive! I wish, I wish you were dea…”

 

 

Try as he might, he couldn’t finish the word. He couldn’t bring himself to give the wish the life that written and spoken word can give to an idea. He wanted to wish she were dead, but did he really want that? Rumplestiltskin sighed sadly and dropped the pen. He sluggishly pulled himself from the chair and dragged himself to his spinning wheel. Perhaps he could forget the whole of the world for a moment. Perhaps he could pretend as if neither he nor Belle existed at all.

 

 

He had taken a deep breath and begun to spin when the crackle of magic in the air nearby stopped him. He listened carefully and heard the heavy iron knocker on his door clang. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. He is in no mood to have visitors, and yet he can’t help but be intrigued by the mystery of who would appear at his doorstep via magical means in the middle of a torrential snow storm in the dead of night. He waits for the inevitable next bang from the undoubtedly impatient person seeking him out for some magical fix, and is even more intrigued when the follow up knock doesn’t come. Who is this strange visitor who would appear at his doorstep via magical means in the middle of a torrential snow storm in the dead of night, knock once and then leave?

 

 

Rumplestiltskin made his way to the foyer of his castle and stood back from the front door to make the maximum impact when revealed to the person on the other side, and opened the door with a flick of his wrist.

 

As the door opened a rush of frigid air and a slight figure, no more than skin and bones, fell to the cold marble floor before him. At first he isn’t sure what he is looking at. It appears to be a nude female, no more than a girl. She is bloody and bruised skin pulled taut over bones, and a matted mess of dull brown hair.

 

He carefully approached this frail child who already is in death’s grasp and rolled her on to her bloody back. He gasped and felt all the air leave his lungs as he fell back in horror and shock. Belle! He crawled forward, unsure of what to do or touch. She looked as if she had been torn to shreds; her chest clawed away and dripping with blackish and garish red blood. He brushed the hair from her face and shuddered as his fingers made contact with her. Please let this be a fevered nightmare. Please don’t let this be reality. His silent pleas go unheard as her eyes flutter open the tiniest bit. She smiled weakly up at him and whispered hoarsely, “I love you, R-um-pl-stilt-skin.” Before once again succumbing to darkness.

 

 

Rumplestiltskin is full of terror, dread, and fear. He is shaking terribly as he pulls her into his arms and cradles her small malnourished frame. He screams her name desperately, but she is pale and still in his arms as his wretched sobs echo off the cold marble that surrounds them. A voice from within him screams to put her in stasis before it is too late and he does, but this reassurance does little for him. So he wraps her in his magic and lets it clean and begin to mend her. She looks considerably better cleaned of blood and her hair is once again soft and hanging in wavy curls, but she still looks undeniably broken and it makes his heart ache.

 

 

He takes her to her bedroom and lays her upon the bed. The air feels stale. He hasn’t been here in all the many weeks she has been gone. He quickly sets to work airing it out and clearing it of dust with a wave of his hand. He starts a fire in the hearth and returns to her side. She is so cold. I must warm her up. My precious Belle must never be cold. He covers her with a soft blanket and enchants it to stay warm and toasty.

 

 

I must know what has happened to her, what has been done to her, in the weeks we have been apart. He summoned a crystal ball and placed it gently in her hand, holding it there with his own. A grey cloud begins to coalesce within the glass and slowly clears to create a picture.

 

Belle stands definitely before him and declares that she won’t leave him. His words are hurtful and rough, yet she stands firm as tears run from her eyes. He can stand the look in her eyes and her shuttering breathes no longer, and with a wave of his hand she is back in her father’s castle. Her father is surprised to see her, but his expression is dark. Rumple would have expected it to be warm and full of love. Her father strides forward. “Why has the Dark One released you?” His question is direct, with a hint of fear behind it. Belle tells her father that she must return to him. “I must have a horse.” He grabs her roughly and shakes her. “Why do you feel you must return?” Belle’s eyes are pleading, tears still glistening on her cheeks. “I love him papa. He is my true love.” Her father pushed her back disgusted and Rumple watched helplessly as memory Belle fell to the floor. Her father called for his guards to seize her and she was roughly dragged to a dark, dank cell.

 

She is alone in the darkness of the cell for three days without food or water. She is weak and cold. She sees light flickering toward her cell. She shudders as she sees clerics holding torches approach the cell door. She is no match for them as they drag her away to another room in the dark dungeons and restrain her on a stone block. The block only supports her lower back and she feels painfully stretched as her wrists and ankles are restrained to the floor with rough rope. The clerics do not speak to her and their silence terrifies her. All at once a funnel is placed in her mouth and water is poured into it. She must swallow quickly. She feels as if she is being drowned. Her stomach stretches painfully. When she can take no more, they cut away her clothes and drag her back to her cell. This treatment continues every few days. Sometimes she is given slop instead of water. Belle wonders how long they will continue to keep her alive in this way.

 

Rumple knows that the clerics were attempting to weaken her resolve and shudders when he realizes that the real torture is about to begin. It began the same as it had previously. The clerics would retrieve her from her cell and take her to another room in the dungeon. This time she was tied down spread eagle on a rough wood table. The head cleric approached her and held out a devilish device known as a pear of anguish for Belle to see. Her eyes grew large at the sight of it and the cleric seemed pleased that she was at least somewhat aware of its purpose. His voice was calm and cold as he spoke to her. “The Dark One violated you and desecrated that which belongs to the order. Confess that he had his way with you.”

 

Belle shook her head, “He never touched me. I am a maid.” The clerics face was hard, yet betrayed no emotion. He took his place between her legs and once again held the pear of anguish for her to see, letting the light from the torches glint off the cold metal of the devilish device that would soon be violating her. Her eyes widened in fear and she tried to squirm against her restraints as she pleaded, “Please! I am a maid! Do not do this! I am a maid!” she screamed as he brought the wicked implement to her entrance and pushed it into her roughly causing her maiden head to tear and bleed. The cleric let her scream and cry for a moment before speaking. “The Dark One pushed his worm into your cunt and filled you with his cum. Confess.”

 

“No!” She screamed as tears ran down her face. The cleric turned the metal key of the pear. Click, click, click. It began to open stretching painfully and tearing her flesh. Her scream was high and shrill and seemed to echo against the surrounding walls like the wails of a banshee. The cleric knelt at her side and spoke into her ear. “You are an impudent girl. A hussy, a jade. Confess.” Belle sobbed, “No, no, no…” and the cleric motioned to have the key turned further. Belle felt as if she would be ripped open completely. The pain was blinding. The cleric spoke into her ear once more, “You are a filthy slut. Unclean like the pigs who wallow in the slop of their masters. Confess.” Belle did not speak. Her eyes were glassy and she stared off at the flickering of the torch light on the ceiling.

 

Watching Belle’s anguish tortured Rumple more than any physical harm to himself could do. He watched as the cleric studied his precious Belle. The cleric then rose and retrieved a metal rattle filled with hot oil. He used it to sprinkle the molten oil on her exposed breasts and flesh and watched as her nerves seemed to reignite in agony. “Confess. Confess.”

 

“No!” Belle shrieked. “He loves me! I love him! I’ll never stop loving him!”

 

The cleric was at her side once more. “He is watching us now. He gave you to us. He wants you to suffer. It pleases him to see you in pain.” Belle moaned and sobbed out, “No.”

 

The cleric spoke as if he were speaking to a simple child, “Then why has he left you to us?” Belle continued to sob, but spoke no more. The cleric signaled to have the key of the pear turned further. Click. Belle sobbed through her screams and Rumple struggled to continue watching as his hands shook.

 

“You are worthless to him”

 

Click.

 

“He kept you in a dungeon and pleasured himself at the sight of your suffering.”

 

Click.

 

“Confess.”

 

“No!” Belle shrieked.

 

“He marked you with his taint and defiled you. Confess.” Belle moaned in agony, but didn’t speak. The head cleric sighed. He pulled the unfurled pear of anguish from her, thoroughly ripping her open all the way to her anus. Belle shook and screamed and then fell into unconsciousness. When she awoke, she was hanging from her wrists and weights pulled her ankles down painfully to the ground she was dangling several inches above. The head cleric moved in front of her and held up a metal comb that looked like what spinners used to card their wool. He asked her no questions. She watched as he silently made his way around her and arched in pain as she felt the comb cut into the skin of her back. He repeated the motion again, and again for what seemed like an eternity leaving the flesh of her back and buttocks exposed and oozing with blood that dripped and ran down her legs like rivers before pooling into a blackish red ocean upon the cold stone floor. Belle felt cold and shaky once more. She saw through bleary eyes as the other clerics brought forth a jug of vinegar, a bowl, and a sponge. Belle hadn’t thought it possible for the damage to her back to be any more excruciating, but she was proved wrong as the vinegar was squeezed from the sponge and allowed to sheet down her back. She howled and wailed in agony once more. The clerics simply watched. None of them spoke. As she once again felt she may succumb to darkness, the head cleric spoke up. “We are nearly done. There is only one thing more to do.” He placed his hands over her heaving breasts dripping with sweat. His voice was a sinister whisper, and she could feel his hot breath on her chest. “I’m going to take these from you. I’m going to rip them from your chest. Very often it is the case that the woman dies soon after from blood loss, so this may be your last opportunity to confess and perhaps gain some semblance of an afterlife.” Belle’s breathing was labored and her voice a mere whisper, “The Dark One never touched me. I love him and I will never stop loving him.”

 

The head cleric sighed, “Very well. If you live past tomorrow, I will have to discuss your execution with the head priests, but I feel confident that they will choose to have you ride the metal horse until you are split in two.” He ran his fingers down her stomach and stopped just above her bloodied womanhood and sighed. “Something to think about.” Belle looked down at him steely eyed and held her mouth closed. Rumple watched as the head cleric retrieved the four-pronged breast ripper from the fire and held it before Belle, letting her watch as the glowing red of the metal dulled to grey. He then clamped them into the flesh of her left breast roughly and pulled, ripping her flesh and leaving her muscle shredded. She screeched in agony and then fell into darkness. Rumple watched in sickened horror as the head cleric roughly ripped Belle’s other breast and then had the other clerics release her and drag her back to her cell leaving a bloody trail in her wake.

 

Rumple was shaking with rage at what he had witnessed. How could her father let her be treated in such a way? How could his hatred of the Dark One blind him to the point of allowing his daughter to be tortured so gruesomely? And why had she not called out to him?!

 

Rumple steeled his nerves and willed the crystal to show what happened next. He saw Belle lying in a bloodied heap in the darkness of her cell. A lone light flickered in the hallway outside the door and for a moment Rumple feared it was the clerics returning to exact some other torture, but then he saw that it was an older woman of very small stature.

 

She crept to the barred door of Belle’s cell and called out to her. Belle weakly acknowledged the woman. The woman spoke in a hushed whisper. “My lady, I am a humble servant in this household. I know of your great sacrifice for our people and I weep to see you treated in this way.” The older woman knelt down and leaned forward against the bars. “I know a bit of magic. It is forbidden in our land, I know, but my mother taught me. My abilities are very limited, but perhaps I can help you.”

 

Belle’s breathing was labored as she dragged her body forward to the bars. “Even if you could free me, I seem to be in death’s sights.”

 

The woman sighed sadly. “If I can’t save you, then perhaps I can give you peace. Is there something that could be done to give you peace before you pass through the veil?”

 

Belle considered and smiled slightly. “The dark one is my true love, and I wish that I could tell him that one last time. I want him to know that my love for him is real.”

 

The woman seemed confused. “Why not summon him then? If he is your true love, surely he would come for you?”

 

Belle sighed breathily. “It’s not so simple. He would think it a trick. He thinks me a liar.” Silent tears poured forth from Belle’s eyes. “Perhaps he would leave me to this fate. He might think this is what I deserve for the perceived wrongs I have inflicted.”

 

The woman shuddered. “Surely not. How could anyone think a crime exists for which this torture is deserved? Perhaps if he saw you, if he could hear your sincerity, he would believe it.”

 

Belle’s voice was weak as she asked, “How could you get me out of this cell, let alone to his fortress high in the mountains?”

 

The woman thought for a moment. “I know a spell for putting things in their place. I’ve never used it on a living thing, but I think it might work. After all, if you are his true love, then surely your place is at his side.”

 

Belle shook her head weakly. “He has wards around his castle to prohibit magic other than his own.”

 

The woman held tight to the bars. “Then the spell should get you as close as it can. If nothing else, at least you won’t die in this wretched place.”

 

Belle smiled weakly. “Then please cast your spell, and thank you for your caring of me.”

 

The woman gave Belle a teary smile. “Thank you my lady for your caring of us all.” The woman waved her hand and Belle disappeared in a puff of smoke.

 

When the smoke cleared, Belle found herself in the bitter cold in front of the large door to the castle. Belle summoned every drop of strength she had left in her body and pulled herself up enough to reach the knocker, letting it fall to the door with a thud, and then collapsing into a broken heap.

 

***

 

Rumple took the crystal from Belle’s hand and vanished it away. He was still for a moment, still and cold like a marble statue. She didn’t call for me because she thought I wouldn’t come. Would I have come? Rumple wasn’t sure, and that uncertainty had him spiraling into dark sadness. She thought I might leave her to those torturous clerics. How could she think that? I would never want to see her hurt… his mind told him that wasn’t quite true and waved his rough treatment of her and his nearly written death wish as proof. But, I didn’t really…I could never… I would have come for her…eventually. Eventually… Rumple saw clearly now that Belle truly was his true love and that his feelings of love for her would always win out. Yes, he would have sought her out, but his pride would have made him hold out until it was too late. He shuddered and sobbed as he imagined what he would have found. They wouldn’t have given her a proper burial, of that he was sure. The clerics would never have allowed it. So what then? Would they have hung her body out to be eaten by vermin? The thought of his precious Belle treated as garbage had bile rising to his throat and burning his chest.

 

Focus on the present. He calmed his breathing and tried to banish all thoughts except for fixing Belle. He knew now what she had suffered and set to work repairing the damage. He focused his energy on mending muscle, knitting bone, and growing skin. It was a feat of endurance, but at last he had her body mended except for an expanse of scars across her chest and back. He would deal with them later, but for now they were of little importance compared to her malnourished frame.

 

Rumple knew that she would need to eat simply for a while in order to allow her stomach to become re-accustomed to digesting food. He decided that he would prepare a simple soup for her, but enhance its nutrients with an elixir. He would need to go to his workroom. Rumple looked down upon Belle’s unconscious form. She’s in stasis. She will be fine. He stared at her for a moment and willed his thoughts to repeat in the hopes that he might believe them. No. I can’t be parted from her. Not yet. He reached under her feather light body, and lifted her into his arms bridal style with her enchanted blanket swathed about her.

 

He snuggled against her as he held her close and nuzzled her face against his cheek. He walked gracefully into his workroom and laid her down upon the couch by the wall. He fluffed a pillow and placed it gently behind her head before beginning his work. When he had finished the elixir, he created a light soup for her and a nutrient packed tea.

 

 

He knelt at her side and gently brushed the hair from her face as he lowered the stasis spell. He watched as she moaned quietly and willed her eyes to open. She looked up at him silently as if she was looking right through him.

 

Rumplestiltskin’s voice sounded small as he spoke to her. “You’re on the mend. You need to try to eat. I’ve made you a simple soup and tea.”

 

But Belle didn’t react at his words. She simply continued to stare. Rumplestiltskin felt tears prick at his eyes as he brought a spoonful of soup to her lips and nudged them open. At last she took it into her mouth and swallowed, wincing as she did so. It felt like an eternity to Rumplestiltskin as he slowly got her to eat the whole of the soup and drink the tea a spoonful at a time, and thankfully swallowing seemed to become easier for her as they continued.

 

When they had finished, Rumplestiltskin desperately wanted to return a smile to her face somehow. He recalled one of her favorite books and summoned it. She had often smiled while reading in the great hall in front of the fire as he sat and spun. Perhaps that would please her…

 

 

In a puff of smoke, he deposited them in the great hall and started a fire in the hearth. He placed her on her favorite chair and placed the book in her hands. He knelt at her feet and watched as she ran her fingers over the worn cover of the tome. He looked up at her face in time to see her eyes roll back and on instinct he reached out for her and caught her as she fell forward into his arms. He began to hyperventilate as he looked down at her frail body in his arms. “Belle…Belle…” he sobbed her name over and over. At last, he was able to catch his breath and began to think critically about her condition. She’s clammy… dehydrated! She needs to cool off and get some water into her. He lifted her up and took her to the long, cool wooden table that they had shared so many meals and cups of tea at, and laid her down upon it. He moved his hand in a small circle and a bowl of cool water and a soft cloth appeared. He wet the cloth and began to wipe her forehead and chest with it. As he wiped her brow, he noticed a piece of paper beneath her head. He gently removed it and as he made to toss it aside he caught sight of the last sentence. “I wish you were dea…” He stared at the page and felt a tear slide down his cheek. He wanted to destroy the paper, but to do so was to risk releasing the wish. He grabbed the pen and sat down in a sturdy wooden chair at Belle’s side. He put pen to paper and glanced up at Belle’s slight frame as her chest rose and fell. He wrote. “I wish you were dearly looking up at me. I wish I could once again see the love in your eyes. I wish to show you the depths of my love for you. I wish to protect you and feel the warmth of you in my arms every day for the rest of eternity. I wish to be completely open with you and for you to be open with me. I wish for us to be a family.“

 

 

Rumplestiltskin held the paper and let a spark from his fingers burn it away to a puff of smoke and floating particles of ash. He watched the remains dissipate in the air and then looked back to Belle. Her eyes were open and they saw him. They really saw him and they seemed to smile at him. He took the cloth and cooled it once more in the bowl of water. He squeezed it out and brought it to her cheeks. Her hand came up and rested on his own as it held the cloth. He looked at her in expectant disbelief as she spoke. “I love you.”

 


End file.
